A New Leash On Love

And before Claire could say that of course she was—you did see him, after all—that cute little springer spaniel she’d shown Matt started howling up a storm.

“Someone wants her dinner now,” Bunny said with a laugh.

“I’m on feeding duty for the dogs,” Claire said, putting the disinfectant back on the supplies shelf and the rag in Bunny’s laundry basket. “If I don’t see you two before I leave for the day, congrats on a great Sunday. Five adult dogs adopted plus the puppies and cats.”

“It was a good day,” Bunny said. “Good luck on that date tonight.”

Claire smiled. “Who knows? Maybe he will be the man of my dreams.”

She was putting on a brave front for the sisters—not that she needed to, since she could always be honest with them. But sometimes Claire reverted to that old need to save face, to not seem like she cared quite so much that she was single, when she wanted to be partnered, to find that special someone to share her life with, to build a life with. She loved Dempsey to pieces, but most nights, unless she had book club or a social event like someone else’s engagement party or birthday, it was her and the boxer mix snuggled on the sofa in her living room, watching Dancing with the Stars or a Netflix movie, a rawhide chew for Dempsey and a single-serve bag of microwave popcorn for her.

There was room on that couch for a man.

But in any case, Matt Fielding was not the man of her dreams, whether she was “hung up or him” or not. Seventeen-year-old Claire had been madly in love. Now, she was a thirty-five-year-old divorced woman staring down her biological clock. “Man of her dreams” was silly nonsense. Hadn’t the supposed man of her dreams dumped her almost two decades ago as if she’d meant nothing? Ha, like that was part of the dream?

Matt Fielding was not the man of her dreams.

If she said it enough, she might believe it.

And if there was no such thing, then what was she looking for in a partner?

She’d never put much stock in checklists, since she could rattle off a list of adjectives, like kind, and nonnegotiables, like doesn’t rip apart his exes or his mother on the date, but everything came down to chemistry. How you felt with someone. How someone made you feel. If your head and heart were engaged. She’d never experienced chemistry the way she had with Matt Fielding. But her motto ever since she’d started volunteering for Furever Paws was: Everything is possible. The most timid dog, the hissiest cat, could become someone’s dearest treasure. Everything is possible. Including Claire finding love again. At thirty-five.

She peeled off her waterproof gloves and tossed them in the used-gloves bin, then headed toward the door to start filling bowls with kibble and sneaking in medicines where needed.

“Oh, Claire,” Birdie said. “Some advice. In the first five minutes, ask your date if he likes dogs. If he says no, you’ll know he’s not for you.”

Bunny tilted her head. “Now, Birdie. Not everyone loves animals like we do.”

Apparently, the entire Whitaker family loved animals to the point that all their nicknames were inspired by animals. Birdie’s real name was Bernadette. Bunny’s was Gwendolyn. There was a Moose—Doug—who’d sadly died long ago. And a Gator, aka Greg, who advised the sisters on financial matters.

“The man of Claire’s dreams will love dogs,” Birdie said. “That’s nonnegotiable. If her blind date says dogs slobber and bark and are a pain in the neck, she can tune him out the rest of the night.”

Claire smiled. As usual, Birdie Whitaker was right.

Chapter Two

Matt held his niece’s hand as they entered the Main Street Grille later that night, the smell of burgers and fish and chips reminding him how hungry he was. His sister, Laura, and her husband, Kurt, had insisted on taking him out to dinner to celebrate his homecoming.

“His homestaying!” Ellie had said, squeezing him into one of her famous hugs.

He adored the eight-year-old. He barely knew her—had rarely seen her since she’d been born because of his tours—but the moment he’d arrived yesterday, she’d latched on to him like he was the fun, exciting uncle she’d missed out on, and of course, he couldn’t let her down. He’d played soccer with her. He’d read her two bedtime stories last night, then she’d read him one, and he’d almost fallen asleep right there in her pink-and-purple room. This morning, he’d played Hiker Barbie with her in the backyard, his Barbie falling into a ravine, and her Barbie saving her with her search-and-rescue skills and the help of Barbie’s golden retriever, Tanner. She’d spent a good hour talking to Matt about dogs, after she’d instructed Tanner to grab his Barbie’s jeans cuff and pull her up to safety. The girl was dog-crazy. And he was Ellie-crazy. He was determined to help her find just the right pooch to love.

With Claire Asher’s help. Amazing.

“We love this restaurant,” Laura said as the hostess led them through the dimly lit space to a table for four near a window. “During the day, it’s more of a diner, but at night it transforms into a pub. Apparently, it’s quite the nostalgic place to get engaged.”

Matt glanced around the restaurant. There were quite a few obvious dates.

And, oh hell, was that Claire?

On an obvious date.

He turned away so that his staring wouldn’t draw her attention. Then, as he sat down, he took another glance. Dammit. Yes, it was. Four tables away, diagonally. She was sitting with her own sister, Della, and two men were across from them. The one across from Claire looked slick. He had gelled hair and trendy eyeglasses and was holding court, making Claire laugh.

Crud. He used to make Claire Asher laugh.

At least she’s happy, he told himself.

“What are you having, Uncle Matt?” Ellie asked. “I’m getting the mac and cheese. No, the cowabunga burger. No, the mac and cheese. Or should I have the spaghetti and meatballs?”

He focused his attention on his niece. The poor thing had an incredibly crooked strawberry-blond braid with weird tufts sticking out. Ellie had asked him to do the honors for tonight’s “special dinner,” and Laura had given the tutorial as he went. When he was done, his sister had had to leave the room to keep herself from bursting into laughter. But Ellie, checking out his handiwork with a hand mirror and her back to the hall mirror, declared her braid just perfect!

“Well, I know your favorite is mac and cheese,” he said, “and since this is a special night, I think you should get your favorite.” Matt forced himself to look at the menu and not Claire.

But she looked so damned pretty. The candle on the table just slightly illuminated her. She’d dolled up a bit since her shift at the shelter. Her pink-red lips were glossy, and her light blond hair was sleek to her shoulders. She wore an off-white V-neck sweater, and a delicate gold chain around her neck.

“That’s right,” his sister said, smiling at Ellie. “This is a special night—celebrating Uncle Matt’s long-awaited homecoming.”

“Homestaying!” Ellie said with a grin.

That got his attention. Because was this something to celebrate? Thirty-six and living in his sister’s guest room? No clue where he was headed, what he’d do. Visiting his family while he figured things out made sense, he reminded himself. He had ideas, of course. And skills. But he felt wrong in his skin, suddenly adrift in this different life.

You’re an American hero and don’t you forget it, his sister had said when he’d mentioned that earlier. You’ll adapt and build a new life—hopefully here in town.

With Claire Asher to run into everywhere he went? No, sir. He was two for two on his first full day in Spring Forest. He couldn’t do that to himself on a daily basis. But until he decided where to go and what to do, Spring Forest, it was.

He took one more look at Claire out the side of his menu. Oh please. Her date was offering her a bite of something. As Claire smiled and leaned forward to accept the fork—with her hand, thank God, and not with those luscious lips—Matt felt his gut tighten and his appetite disappear.

He’d help Ellie find her dog. Which meant seeing Claire one more time tomorrow. And then maybe he’d leave town. There was no way he could figure out what the hell he was going to do with his life if he was going to constantly run into her—and be unable to stop thinking about her.

Dammit.

Now she was laughing at something Slick had said. Great. Tonight was a real celebration.

Claire’s date liked dogs. Loved them, in fact. He—Andrew, thirty-five, divorced, two children of whom he shared joint custody—even had a dog, a yellow Lab named Sully.

And Andrew was very attractive. Her sister hadn’t been kidding about him looking like Matt, to a degree. They had the same coloring, the dark hair—though Matt’s was more military-short—the blue eyes, the strong nose and square jawline, both men managing to look both refined and rugged at the same time. Andrew was in a suit and tie, but Claire had seen Matt Fielding in a suit only once—on prom night, the black tuxedo he’d paired with a skinny white silk tie and black Converse high-tops. That night, she’d thought there was nothing sexier on the planet than her boyfriend.

Her date for tonight was charming and kind and attentive, asking all kinds of questions about her job as a teacher. He showed her photos of his kids and beamed with pride about them, which Claire found sweet and touching. Over the past few years, when she’d started worrying that she wouldn’t find Mr. Right-Part-Two, she’d thought about marrying a man with kids and becoming a great stepmother. And there was adoption, of course. Her single friend Sally had adopted a little girl from foster care, and though there were challenges, she’d never seen her friend so happy, so fulfilled.

Another of Claire’s mottoes over the past few years had been: If you want to find your life partner, if you want to have a child, however that child may come into your life, you have to keep your mind and heart open.

And now here was seemingly perfect Andrew. Even clear-eyed, hard-nosed Birdie Whitaker would be impressed by him and the prospects of a second date. She could just hear romantic Bunny running down how things would go: And then a third date at that revolving restaurant on the zillionth floor in the fancy hotel in Raleigh. Then amazing sex in your suite for the night. Then exclusivity. Then a proposal on your six-month-iversary. You’ll be married to a wonderful man and have stepchildren to dote on and love by summer—you could be a June bride if you’re only engaged four months! Oh God, sometimes Claire thought it would be wonderful to be Bunny.

Problem was, though, that despite how wonderful Andrew seemed, Claire felt zero chemistry. Zero pull. The thought of getting to know him better didn’t really interest her. The idea of kissing him left her cold.

No fair! And she knew exactly why this man who loved dogs, who’d even showed her a slew of photos of handsome Sully on his phone, wasn’t having any effect on any part of her at all.

Because for the past few hours, as she’d been getting ready for the date, Matt had been on her mind. How could he not be? She hadn’t seen him in almost twenty years and then, whammo, there he was today, at her sanctuary, the place where she always felt at home, at peace. Matt Fielding suddenly kneeling in front of a dog’s kennel at Furever Paws. Unbelievable.

She’d started out the evening thinking she would not let being all verklempt at seeing her first love derail this date. And so she’d put a little more effort than she otherwise might have into her hair and makeup and outfit, as if trying to force herself to give the date a real shot instead of knowing her heart just wouldn’t be in it.

And now, as Andrew signaled their waiter for their check, which he insisted on paying for the table, all she wanted was to be back home, sipping this excellent chardonnay in a hot bath to soothe her muscles after the long day at the shelter. And to deal with being flooded by memories of Matt. The first time they’d met. Kissed. When he’d opened up about his older brother, who hadn’t come home from Afghanistan. His parents’ pride and worry that Matt had enlisted in his brother’s honor. That they may lose another son. Matt had promised his mother he’d email every night to say good-night, to let her know he was okay. And he had for years; his sister, Laura, had shared that with her when they’d run into each other a few years back.

Matt had ended up outliving his parents, and when Laura had let Claire know when they’d run into each other another time, she’d said that Matt got through it only because he wouldn’t have to worry about shattering their hearts a second time, after all.

All these memories had come rushing back while she’d been applying mascara and stepping into a gentle spray of Chanel Nº 19. Her date with Andrew Haverman, attorney-at-law, never stood a chance.

Claire shook her head at herself.

“So, I hope we can go for a drink,” Andrew said as he signed the credit card slip. He slid a hopeful, very-interested smile at Claire.

Claire’s sister stood up, prompting her husband to do the same. “We have to get up pretty early tomorrow. You two go, though,” she added with her own hopeful smile, glancing from Claire to Andrew and back to Claire.

Don’t you dare mess this up! Claire could hear Della shouting telepathically to her. Get Matt Fielding out of your head this instant! I know you! GET. HIM. OUT! Andrew has a dog named Sully!

Despite the dog, despite everything, she couldn’t get Matt out of her head. As her date was pocketing his shiny gold credit card and receipt, she glanced around the restaurant, trying to think of an excuse. She didn’t want to go for a drink, extend the date. She didn’t want to see this man again, despite, despite, despite. Avoiding her sister’s narrowed stare, Claire kept looking around the restaurant, sending a smile to a former student at a table with her parents, another smile to a couple who’d adopted two kittens from Furever Paws a few weeks ago—and then her smile froze.

Claire felt her eyes widen as her gaze was caught on a very crooked strawberry-blond braid halfway down a little girl’s back. She’d seen a similarly hued braid—though a very tidy one—on Matt’s niece when she’d run into his sister and the girl a couple of months ago in the supermarket.

Oh God. Don’t let me look next to her and see Matt.

But there he was. Now staring at her. Glaring at her, actually.

Whoa there, guy.

But suddenly her date was standing up too, and so she had to. Her group would walk right past Matt’s table. There was no way she couldn’t say hello, if not to Matt, then to his sister.

Awk-ward.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Claire’s sister hiss-whispered in her ear as they headed toward the door—toward Matt’s table. “No wonder you’ve been so distracted!”

“Actually, I just noticed him a few seconds ago,” Claire admitted. If she’d known he was there this whole time, she would have excused herself to the restroom to hyperventilate.

“Claire!” Matt’s sister said with a surprised smile as they were about to pass.

Oh hell. Claire paused as her group moved on to the waiting area, collecting their coats from the racks. Her sister was furiously gesturing her over by tipping her head to the side, her mouth in a comical grimace.

“I hear I owe you a big thank-you, Claire!” Laura was saying. She sat across from Matt and next to her husband. “Matt mentioned he ran into you at Furever Paws and that you’re going to help Ellie choose a puppy tomorrow.”

Claire glanced at Matt, who was now sitting with a total lack of expression on his handsome face. Better than the glare? Not really.

“I’m so excited, I’m going to explode,” Ellie said, her hazel eyes shining. “Thank you for helping me! I can’t wait to see the puppies!”

Aww. Ellie was adorable and sweet. “My pleasure,” Claire said.

“Just remember the rules, Matt and Ellie,” Laura said, raising an eyebrow between the two. “Housetrained is a must. And the puppy must know basic commands before he walks into our home. Oh—and no bigger than medium-sized when fully grown.”

Uh-oh, Claire thought. She’d have her work cut out for her there. Did any of the puppies fit the bill? Certainly not the springer spaniel, who’d peed right on Claire’s foot this morning while she’d been fluffing her blanket. Though she was expected to be medium-sized. And the three other contenders were housetrained, but two would be huge, and a consistent “sit” was still beyond all of them, in spite of lots of training with high-value treats.

“Your date is waiting for you,” Matt practically growled, gesturing toward the door.

Her sister was still furiously head-gesturing for Claire to get the hell away from Matt Fielding and join the present and possible future—not be stuck in the past.

Awk-ward, she thought again as she smiled at everyone and dashed toward her group.

But as her date held the door open for her, she dared a glance back at Matt.

And he was looking right at her, his expression more readable now. He was angry-jealous!

He’d dumped her, remember? To live his own life on his terms.

“So, that nightcap?” her date asked, helping her into her coat.

Do not look over at Matt, she ordered herself, aware that he had to be watching right then.

“To be honest, I just saw a ghost,” she said, surprising herself with her candor. “I think I’d like to just call it a night.”

Her sister rolled her eyes and shook her head so imperceptibly that likely only Claire caught it.

Her date looked confused.

“An ex,” her brother-in-law explained to Andrew.

“Ah. I get it,” Andrew said. “Happened to me just last night while on another blind date, and crazy as it was, I ended up with the ex for the rest of the night.” A salacious expression lit his face. “One-time thing,” he rushed to say, seeming to realize he’d said too much.

At least Claire wouldn’t have to feel too bad about ditching him.

As they headed to her sister’s SUV, she could still see Matt’s face so clearly in her mind. How could she not be over him? How? Eighteen years later?

He was coming to the shelter tomorrow. She’d see him again. He had a purpose and so did she, and then he’d leave and that would be that.

Yeah, right.

Corporal McCabbers was telling Matt about his girlfriend back home; Penny was her name, with long red hair and green eyes. He and McCabbers sat in the back of the vehicle, headed for a broken-down US Army truck that they had to get running pronto.

Ten more days and I’m home, McCabbers was saying, and Matt envied his buddy’s ability to lose himself in his memories and hopes for the future—because his woman was still his woman. Matt had a string of hookups and failed off-base, short-term relationships. There’d been women over the years, but Claire Asher’s face was always the one he saw in his dreams, his fantasies.

And home? There’d been no home for almost two decades. Home was wherever Matt was.

“There’s the truck,” he heard the driver call.

He and McCabbers waited for their vehicle to stop, for the all-clear from the driver to duck out toward the truck under cover of night.

No sooner had their boots hit the dry, dusty ground than a burst of flame erupted before Matt’s eyes, the explosion throwing him back hard.

The pain in his left leg was unlike anything he’d felt before. “Fielding!” he heard McCabbers shouting. “Fielding!” And then he’d felt nothing at all.

Matt bolted up, a trickle of sweat running down his chest, his breath ragged and coming hard. He glanced around, and then closed his eyes.

He was home. His sister’s house.

Letting out a breath, he dropped back down on the soft sheets and pulled the comforter up to his chest.

He didn’t have the nightmares as often as he used to. In rehab, where he’d woken up after being unconscious for two days, he’d had the dreams every time he’d fallen asleep. But as his wounds healed and his leg strengthened, the nightmares had lessened. The memories remained though.

He could still picture dragging himself over to McCabbers and tying his shirt around the wound in his buddy’s leg, which had looked a hell of a lot worse than Matt’s own. The driver of their vehicle had been able to get back to them, dragging him and McCabbers into the truck and booking it out of there, saving their lives. McCabbers had gone on to marry his girlfriend six months later in Las Vegas, on one crutch but otherwise alive and well.

Matt had a hell of a lot to be grateful for. And Claire Asher deserved to be happy. Wasn’t that why he’d broken up with her all those years ago? So she could have a better life than the one he’d be able to share with her?

Still, he couldn’t stop speculating about how Claire’s evening had progressed. If it had progressed. If she’d invited Slick home. If he was still there.

None of your business, he reminded himself. Help your niece find the perfect puppy, then pack up and find a place where you belong.

Chapter Three

“That very good-looking man and a little girl are out front,” Bunny whispered with a smile as Claire came in the back door of Furever Paws on Monday afternoon. Claire returned Sunshine to her kennel and secured the door, noting the time of the walk on the big whiteboard on the wall. The year-old rottie mix had been at the kennel for two days, and was slowly warming up to walking on a leash. “Says he’s here to see Claire Asher about adopting a puppy.” Bunny smiled slyly.

Claire shook her head at Bunny’s expression. “Well, he is.”

“I can’t wait to hear about your date,” Bunny said, her blue eyes twinkling. “Find me later and tell me everything.”

Do I want to be reminded of any of it? No. “There’s nothing really to tell. No chemistry, even if he was great on paper.”

Bunny nodded. “I get it. A blind date, no matter if he’s Pierce Brosnan, can’t compete with a first love on the brain.”

Especially when that first love is in the same restaurant.

Claire glanced at the clock. It was exactly three thirty. She’d practically raced here after finishing up at school, grateful that her last period of the day was monitoring a study hall. She’d wanted to get to the shelter with some time to spare before Matt arrived so that she wouldn’t be flustered. So, she’d taken Sunshine out, grounded herself on her turf and was ready by the time she got back inside.

Claire left the dog kennels and headed to the main lobby. She almost sucked in her breath at the sight of Matt, looking as good as Bunny had noted. He wore a navy-blue Henley, a black leather jacket and dark jeans.

She gave him a fast smile, then turned her focus on Ellie, who was practically jumping in place.

“Hi, Miss Claire!” Ellie said with a huge grin on her adorable face. “I can’t wait to see the puppies! Can you believe my mom finally said okay to me having a dog? I’ve been waiting years!”

“Well, you are only eight,” Matt pointed out, giving her still-crooked braid a playful pull.

“I’ve wanted a dog since I was two,” Ellie said. “But I had to show my mom I could take care of a dog. And I can! And I will!”

Her handsome uncle smiled. “I know it.”

“Well, to the kennels, then,” Claire said, leading the way. This was good. They were both ignoring running into each other last night. “We have four puppies and three dogs between a year and a half and two—they’ve got a lot of puppy in them too. Let’s start with the puppies and see who you like.”